


I Am Your Secret, Aren't I?

by gilligankane



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-10
Updated: 2009-12-10
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:39:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rachel told Finn and Puck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Am Your Secret, Aren't I?

Quinn feels like she’s going to throw up.

It could be the baby, but she thinks it mostly has to do with Rachel.

“You did  _what_?” she asks, surprising herself at how calm she sounds.

Rachel, Quinn can see, isn’t sure whether to be surprised, shocked, or alarmed at Quinn’s lack of response, but settles for trying to come off as confident.

She fails.

“I told Finn and Noah.”

“Finn and Puck,” Quinn repeats.

Rachel gives her a shaky nod. “I kind of lost my cool.”

Quinn snorts. “You have to have cool to lose it.”

“I’m disregarding your insult because I think you’re in shock.”

That snaps Quinn out of the mellow lull she fell into and she suddenly begins to understand.

Rachel told Finn and Puck.

“You told Finn and Puck!” she yells, raising a hand and slamming it against her locker. “What were you thinking?”

Rachel lifts her shoulders and drops them again, glancing away from Quinn and quickly looking back when she locks eyes with Santana. “It just kind of slipped out.”

“How does it just slip out?”

“They were arguing about holidays and birthdays and I kindly informed them that you needed to make that decision. About the baby, I mean,” Rachel adds. “The baby’s holiday’s and birthdays and who would get her when and-”

“Yeah,” Quinn sighs wearily. “I’ve got it. I don’t understand how-”

“Finn snapped at me. He told me to stay out of it, because it was none of my business.”

Quinn drops her head. “Oh.”

Rachel’s eyes flash and Quinn is suddenly face to face with  _Rachel Berry_ , the confident, constantly underestimated, shows no regrets and never does anything half-way Rachel who has a very focused tunnel vision. Quinn wonders how Finn used to deal with this attention, because when Rachel is solely focused on her, Quinn feels her stomach tighten and she starts to wonder if Rachel can see her sweating and that’s not to say she doesn’t like when Rachel is focused on her and only her, but it’s just intimidating at the moment.

“I wondered, naturally, why he was under that impression when it occurred to me.”

Quinn starts to fumble through her locker. “I swear I put my Spanish book in here,” she mutters.

“And, naturally, I was embarrassed.”

“I swear,” Quinn murmurs, looking past Rachel’s shoulder. “Hey, Santana, have you seen my Spanish book?”

The cheerleader rolls her eyes and grabs Brittany by the wrist. “Let’s get out of here. We don’t want to be witnesses to high school homicide. It’s way too _Lifetime_  for me.”

“I like  _Lifetime_ ,” Brittany argues, following regardless.

“Then, naturally, I was angry.”

Quinn sighs and stops looking for the book that Rachel is already holding. “Rachel-”

“I looked foolish,” Rachel whispers hotly. “I was sitting in the middle of class while they bickered about sharing time with your unborn child and then snapping at me because I have nothing to do with said unborn child.”

“It slipped my mind?” Quinn tries, biting her bottom lip in a way that makes her look coy.

“Hmmph,” Rachel says under her breath, placing the Spanish book gently in Quinn’s hands. “About our date tonight? It slipped my mind.”

Quinn watches Rachel turn on her heel, skirt swishing around her knees, and storm down the hall. She leans forward and bangs her head lightly against the cool metal locker. She hears a snicker behind her and turns, glaring at Santana.

“I thought you were leaving.”

Santana smirks. “Didn’t want to miss the show.”

\---

Finn finds her on her way out of Pre-Calculus, catching her elbow and swinging her into the hallway.

“We gotta talk,” he mutters, dragging her though the throng of students.

Quinn pulls her arm back. “Get off me, you oaf.”

“Is it true?”

“Is  _what_  true?” she asks, but she already knows what he’s talking about.

“You and Rachel. Is it true?”

“Finn-”

He leans closer, holding her shoulders tightly. “Just tell me that you’re not dating Rachel.”

She struggles against his hold. “Finn, let go of me.”

He does, suddenly, and smiles as she stumbles back. She rubs at her shoulder and glares at him.

“Of course you’re not. She likes me, after all,” he boasts, puffing out his chest. “I knew she was kidding when she said that.” He frowns sympathetically. “I think she’s just jealous that you’re still in my life, even though I said I was done with you,” he says, shrugging. “Oh well. Sorry about going all Sherlock Holmes on you there.”

Finn gets about ten feet down the hall before Quinn realizes what just happened and that this is her chance to fix what she didn’t do before, not that she has a choice because she’s chasing after him without thinking about it, stretching on her tip-toes and grabbing his collar.

“Whoa,” he cries, spinning around. “I said I was sorry.”

She narrows her eyes and pokes him in the chest. “Here’s the deal, Shrek,” she snarls. “Rachel? She doesn’t like you anymore. That puppy-dog crush she had on you? It’s over with.” Quinn smiles proudly and crosses her arms over her chest. “She’s with me now.”

Finn glares. “She’s not one of your lackey’s, Quinn. You don’t get to decide who she can like and who she can’t.”

“No,” Quinn agrees, “but she is-”

“Is what?” he challenges.

Quinn swallows heavily and decides: it’s now or never. “My girlfriend,” she says, voice hardly cracking. She takes a deep breath and swallows again. “Rachel is my girlfriend.”

Finn gapes, his mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ shape. She can see the information processing on his face: the confusion, the shock, and then the realization spreading from his eyes, coloring the tips of his ears red.

“You’re dating Rachel?” he asks, awe-struck.

Quinn nods slowly. “Yes.”

His awe turns to a frown. “God, Quinn,” he breathes out. “Why do you get everything?”

She’s too confused to ask what that even means, and she lets him march down the hall, taking heavier steps than he needs too, and she sighs.

\---

Quinn decides that by the time the day is through, everyone important (the Glee club, Mr. Schuester) and everyone not important (Sue Sylvester) will know that she, Quinn Fabray, is in fact dating one Rachel Berry.

And she likes it.

\---

“I don’t understand,” Brittany says, tilting her head to the right.

Quinn nods, because she almost expected this. “I know-”

“No,” Brittany interrupts. “I heard what you said. But,” she pauses, “are you two having sex?”

Quinn feels her face go red and knows that her blush is racing across her entire body. Brittany smiles widely and pats Quinn’s hand.

“Because if you two are having sex,” Brittany continues slowly, “that’s not really dating.”

“Oh?”

Brittany nods reassuringly. “Santana says so.”

Quinn quirks an eyebrow. “Well, we hold hands and stuff, too. Not at school,” she adds quickly, then frowns because maybe that’s something Rachel wants.

“Santana and I do that too,” Brittany says with a confused smile.

“Hmm,” Quinn hums. She decides she’s going to let Brittany figure this out on her own – or ask Santana – because she just doesn’t have time to sit and draw a diagram. “Well, I’ve got to find Mercedes and Tina,” she explains, trailing off.

“Oh!” Brittany’s smile grows and brightens. “They usually eat lunch in the corner of the quad.”

Quinn wonders how Brittany even knows that, but then remembers that Brittany is as sweet as honey and smiles.

“Thanks, Britt.”

Brittany waves and opens her Jell-O cup.

\---

Mercedes lets out a deep laugh, causing half of the quad to turn towards them, craning their necks to see what all the noise is about. Quinn blushes again and ducks her head.

“Really?” Tina asks, stutter-free.

Quinn nods surely. “For a few months now,” she admits.

“You,” Mercedes wheezes, “and  _Rachel_?”

Now Quinn frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mercedes’ laugh dies quickly and Tina starts to pick at her sandwich. “It’s just, it’s  _Rachel_.”

“Yeah,” Quinn says slowly. “What about it?”

“It’s just not something you’d expect.”

“Yes it is,” Tina cuts him. She shrugs. “You guys were, like, total enemies and it makes sense you would end up together.”

Mercedes gives her a  _“seriously”_ look. “Are you for real?”

“It was either they would kill each other, or have really hot sex.”

Both girls turn to Quinn with smirks on their faces.

“What?” she asks defensively.

Mercedes leans in closer and winks. “Not that we care about Rachel that much, and while the thought of her getting’ horizontal-”

“Or vertical,” Tina cuts in.

“With anyone,” Mercedes continues, “is slightly disturbing, no matter how hot she looked that one time, is the sex hot?”

Quinn lets out a small shriek and gets up from the table quickly, eyes darting around wildly. “ _Mercedes_ ,” she hisses. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, but that accentuates her baby bump, she crosses them around her waist and she frowns. “That’s degrading.”

Mercedes lets out another deep laugh and elbows Tina.

“We don’t care,” Tina translates. “Have happy lesbian fun.”

\---

Matt and Mike are easy.

Matt gestures wildly and Mike nods at him before turning back to Quinn.

“He says that’s great, but he wants to know if you know something about Santana and Brittany sleeping together?”

Quinn groans and walks away, rolling her eyes.

Behind her she can hear Mike: “Dude, I told you girls don’t touch that much unless they’re doing it.”

\---

She marches into Spanish class, pushing past the freshmen trickling out as the bell rings, signaling the end of the period.

“Hey, Quinn,” Mr. Schuester says merrily. “What’s up?”

“I’m dating Rachel Berry,” she blurts out, immediately clamping her teeth shut.

Mr. Schuester turns towards her slowly. “I beg your pardon.”

“I just wanted you to know,” she says, not bothering to repeat herself. “It won’t affect Glee, at all. I mean, we still fight about the music thing and about how Rachel is obsessed to the point of a mental disorder and she still thinks that I’m not committed enough, and that’s never going to change,” she rants, “but if we start to fight about other things, we’ll keep it out of Glee.”

“Okay,” he says slowly, nodding even though Quinn can see that he doesn’t really understand it.

“I’m only informing you because it’s the right thing to do.”

“Sure, Quinn.”

She walks out the door and turns back. “You can breathe now, Mr. Schue.”

\---

Artie, next to her in History, leans in close when the teacher turns his back.

“Tina texted me,” he says, waggling his eyebrows. “Is it true?”

She likes the way he asks her; not like Finn, all abrasive and demanding, but sweet and with his mouth quirked in a genuine smile. She finds herself grinning without trying to hold it back and she nods shyly.

“Score,” he cheers quietly. “I know she’s kind of annoying,” he starts.

Quinn frowns – because really, why is that all people seem to think about Rachel? – but Artie rushes on. “I mean, she’s kind of intense, like, all the time, and that’s really intimidating at first, you know? Because the rest of us are just in Glee because we love singing. She’s in Glee because it’s like, her life goal, which is cool and all.

She feels her frown start to slide off her face and Artie’s own smile gets a little wider.

“I think you’re good for her,” he says decisively. “She’s more relaxed since she stopped drooling after Finn.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, definitely,” he assures her. “She’s laid back. Did you notice that Brittany totally flubbed the words to ‘Happy Together’ yesterday and Rachel laughed about it?”

Now that Quinn thinks about, she  _did_  notice it. She remembers Brittany mixing up the  _“you and me”_  and  _“me and you”_  at the wrong time and then entire room going silent while Santana muttered something about the mix up happening  _“to anyone, God,”_  and she remembers looking to Rachel to see what would happen, shocked when Rachel giggled and pointed good-naturedly at her sheet music, shaking it at Brittany.

“Yeah,” she says slowly. “She did, didn’t she?”

Artie nods and winks at her. “See? You’re totally a good influence on her.”

“Ms. Fabray, if you could pay attention,” the teacher says from the front of the room.

Quinn turns back to the blackboard, but when the teacher turns again, she leans back towards Artie. “Thanks,” she whispers.

He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but she wishes everyone was like Artie Abrams.

\---

“So, Q, heard a fun fact about you today,” Ms. Sylvester says conversationally from behind her.

Quinn jumps and narrowly misses the corner of her locker. “Ms. Sylvester,” she chokes out, because even if she stood up to Sue that one time, she was running on adrenaline and right now she’s just minding her own business, taking a much needed break from Spanish where Finn is just glaring at her and Rachel didn’t even show up.

“Crossed over to the dark side, huh?”

“I, I-”

Ms. Sylvester pats her on the shoulder – or, Quinn assumes she means to pat her, but it’s more like a bowling ball being dropped on her shoulder bone repeatedly – and tilts her head in a way Quinn has learned to mean  _“shut up, I’m talking.”_

“I don’t know what they’re putting in your chocolate milk these days, but back when I was a young, studly teenager, this kind of behavior was frowned upon. Fraternizing with the enemy, Q? I though you knew better.” Ms. Sylvester shakes her head disapprovingly.

“Ah, well,” the older woman murmurs. “I suppose the loud mouth is better than Aretha or that Asian.”

Quinn opens her mouth to protest, but Ms. Sylvester lifts her hand. “I’m just glad you quit the Cheerios before you could infect the other girls.”

“I didn’t quit the-”

“Although, maybe you caught it from Brittany and Santana,” Ms. Sylvester continues, ignoring Quinn. “Those girls are ridiculous. Bunnies do it less than they do.  _Anyway_ ,” she says, laughing like she just told a joke that Quinn didn’t hear. “Nice chatting with you, Q. Let’s not do it for a little while, okay?”

Quinn lifts a hand out as if to say  _“wait”_  but Ms. Sylvester is already down the hallway, pushing a kid into the wall and yelling about his backpack getting in her way.

She’s not sure, but she thinks that Sue Sylvester just complimented Rachel.

\---

“Meeting, now,” Kurt growls, throwing open the door to the girls room. Quinn hears a short scream and then some freshman girl comes sliding out of the swinging door. Dumbly, Quinn walks in and leans up against the sink while Kurt paces.

“Tina told me that you’re doing the dirty with Rachel,” he says accusingly.

“Tina,” Quinn mutters, “has a big mouth.” She steels her shoulders and frowns. “Why does everything think that’s all we’re doing?”

Kurt pales. “Oh,  _God_ , you’re sleeping with her.”

“I’m  _dating_  her” she corrects, her frown growing deeper. “ _Day-ting_ ,” she drags out. “We go out to the movies and she makes me dinner and we hold hands when we watch America’s Next Top Model and…”

“Please,” Kurt snorts. “I don’t want to hear about the boring life of Rachel Berry.”

Quinn sees red. She slams a hand down on the sink behind her, ignoring the searing pain that radiates through her wrist and takes a step towards Kurt who takes a step back.

“She is  _not_  boring. She’s dedicated and talented and  _loving_  and more of a singer than you’ll ever be! Just because you don’t want to be picked on, doesn’t give you the right to pick on her.”

Kurt’s eyes narrow. “Why not?  _You_  picked on her and now, just because you’re sleeping with her, you want everyone to be nice to her?”

“I don’t get why you hate her so much,” Quinn says tiredly.

“You’d hate her too if you were me. She has  _everything_  and I-”

“Have nothing,” Quinn finishes for him, slumping back against the sinks. “She’s a good person. Once you get past the self-assurance and her good intentions gone wrong,” she adds.

Kurt sighs and grimaces. “And the constant talking. How do you get past that?”

Quinn winks and lifts her chin suggestively. “I’ve got my ways.”

Kurt makes a gagging sound in the back of his throat but threads his arm through Quinn’s and guides them back into the hallway.

“Now that you’re  _officially_ dating her, I’m holding you personally responsible for all her wardrobe mishaps,” he says seriously.

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Absolutely not,” she says. “I’m letting her make those mistakes on her own, or she’ll never learn.”

“Quinn,” Kurt says in a low voice. “You don’t let a girl do a woman’s job.”

He won’t let her argue with him.

\---

Puck leers. “You and Berry,” he repeats.

She sighs, already tired of his knowing smirk and his suggestive eyebrow lifts.

“That’s  _hot_ ,” he says, eyes crinkling.

Quinn reaches forward and punches him the in shoulder, but he laughs it off. “That’s my girlfriend,” she says defensively.

“I’m just being appreciative,” he insists.

“You’re being abhorrent.”

“Either way,” Puck says, “it’s still hot.” His smile fades and Quinn feels something like fear in the pit of her stomach. “This is why she was upset this morning,” he guesses.

“Yes,” Quinn whispers, hanging her head. “Hey!” she yells when he flicks her head hard. “What was that for?”

“You upset her,” Puck says again. “You’re lucky you’re not a dude.”

Quinn blinks a couple of time, rubbing absently at a spot near her temple. “I didn’t know you cared,” she says honestly.

Puck’s eyes go wide, caught. “I do-don’t,” he stammers.

“You do,” Quinn says in a sing-song voice, smirking.”

“It’s not like we’re friends, or anything,” he says firmly. “It’s just that, well, she’s Jewish,” he finishes lamely.

Quinn tries to keep her laugh in, but she can’t and Puck pouts and looks away. “No,” she tries to assure him. “It’s cute.”

“It’s not  _cute_ ,” he growls.

“It is,” she says over his protests. “You’re just protective. It’s  _nice_.”

“Well,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. “Just don’t go breaking her heart or anything.” He smiles sheepishly. “I’d hate to have to hurt you.”

\---

“Uh huh,” Santana says, rolling her eyes.

Quinn frowns. “What does that even mean?”

“It means that I already know about your lesbian tendencies and while Manhands isn’t a suitable choice for your social status, not that you have one anymore,” Santana rants.

“Santana-”

“What I mean,” Santana rushes on, “is that,  _God_ , whatever makes you happy.”

Quinn giggles a little then says seriously, “Brittany’s a lucky girl.”

Santana moves down the hall towards the Glee room, glaring. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. You people are all deluded.”

\---

She stops Rachel in the doorway before Glee, tugging at the edge of Rachel’s non-argyle sweater.

“What?” Rachel asks, her voice weary and low.

“I told them,” she says, feeling the need to warn Rachel for whatever is coming: clever-disguised barbs (Santana), hugs (Brittany), snickering (Mercedes and Tina), looks of contempt (Finn), or a sudden increase of overprotection (Puck).

“Told who what?”

Quinn lifts an eyebrow as if to say  _“really, Rachel?”_  She tugs until Rachel turns to face her completely and presses her hands against Rachel’s cheeks. “I told Glee. About us,” she clarifies.

It’s almost like watching comprehension dawn on Finn’s face except that she doesn’t frown, she smiles widely and ducks her head shyly. “Really?”

“Really, really,” Quinn confirms, leaning forward.

Rachel pulls back at the last second and Quinn kisses empty air. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Rachel,” Quinn whines.

“It’s a fair question,” Rachel argues, hands on her hips. “You might just be saying that to get in my pants.”

Almost before the sentence even has time to comprehend in Quinn’s mind, she’s slapping a hand down over Rachel’s mouth and glancing into the band room guiltily.

“Whamp or ew doi-hmmph?” Rachel asks from behind her hand.

“I just spent a better part of the day convincing people that we’re  _dating_  dating, not just  _sleeping together_  dating,” Quinn says accusingly.

Rachel peels Quinn’s hand off her mouth. “Why would they think that? Of course we’re  _dating_.”

Quinn shrugs. “It’s the new thing, I guess. Anyway, you can’t go around saying that I do stuff just to get into your pants because then they’re going to think that we’re like Brittany and Santana and, well, we’re not.”

“No,” Rachel agrees. “I take you out in public before I make out with you in the backseat.”

“You’re real classy,” Quinn deadpans. “Can I just kiss you already, or are you going to dodge me again.”

“By all means,” Rachel says, throwing her hands up, “embarrass me in front of everyone. Really, Quinn, I have a social reputation to protect,” but Rachel is smiling and leaning forward and bumping her nose against Quinn’s catching Quinn’s mouth with her own.

Rachel pulls back. “I can still get in your pants, right? I mean, just because we’re  _dating_  dating doesn’t mean that we’re celibate, right?”

“God,” Quinn groans. “Go,” she orders. “Get in there.”

“This is serious, Quinn,” Rachel protests.

“Yes,” Quinn whispers against Rachel’s mouth, her hips pressing against Rachel’s. “You can still get in my pants.”

Rachel grins, pecking Quinn on the mouth lightly. “Spectacular. Now, we’re late for Glee and that, Quinn doesn’t show-”

“Good commitment,” Quinn finishes blandly. “Yeah, I know that.”

Rachel winks. “Just making sure.”


End file.
